


Justice and Catalysis

by hinataisnothim (afwrit)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Bombs, Komaeda Nagito Being Komaeda Nagito, Komahina Secret Exchange, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26247334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afwrit/pseuds/hinataisnothim
Summary: Hajime is a rookie police officer having a rough day.It doesn't help that he doesn't know what catalysis even is. And now a lunatic is lecturing to him.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 15
Kudos: 93





	Justice and Catalysis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coockiedrop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coockiedrop/gifts).



> i hope this is a good gift

The streets of Tokyo were boring.

Well, no, that wasn’t _entirely_ true, Hinata supposed. He took a bite from the donut in his hand, absentminded. Because he wasn’t a slob it was wrapped in a napkin, the other hand clutching bitter black coffee. 

The streets themselves were pristine, the trees lush with pink blossoms with petals that swirled into the air at the faintest breeze, and even the nights were tenuous work at their worst. The problem was that his mind often drifted to more exciting work in the field: chasing down criminals, precisely anticipating where gang warfare was likely to occur, and conducting behavioral analysis to catch a killer.

It was a shame, then, that he had never been good at any of those.

No, Hinata Hajime was a rookie in a sleepy prefecture in the middle of a spring afternoon. It wasn’t his first day on the job but the routine was solidified and unchanging. When school let out he would meander to the crosswalk and usher the traffic across, and when there was a storm he would patrol the bridges to see if the water overflowed. Crime was contained to a multitude of domestic affairs and drunken insults. Nothing worth serious dedication or dignity.

Still, a deep undefinable part of him could not help but crave _excitement_. It was why he had joined the police academy a year ago. The idea of cutting off a bank robbery, of saving someone’s life when they needed him most was riveting. It gave spark to his step and a smile to his face. To be the hero, the protagonist, to save the day at its darkest hour.

But how could he do that when the world was perfect?

“Check your ten, Hinata.”

He was still being shadowed by their squad leader Ikusaba Mukuro. As a rookie, he still had a lot to learn. Mukuro was the best of the best. She had risen through the ranks faster than any woman before her, breaking barriers along the way. Her uniform was always perfectly pressed, her stance steady and balanced, and her eyes cold as steel. While she was slim, she was also pure muscle. Rumors circulated that before she returned to Japan she had been part of a militia in the Middle East.

Hajime couldn’t help but be intimidated by her.

“Sorry, Ikusaba-san.”

It took him a moment to remember where ten’s hand on the clock face was (even though he could have mirrored Ikusaba’s gaze had he thought for one second). When Hajime had worked it out, he peered across the street to see a man shuffling down the sidewalk. In many instances he was normal, if not strange, with one exception:

He was wearing a gas mask.

“Is that normal?” Ikusaba turned to face him and he withered beneath her cold gaze. “Right. I’ll go check on him.”

( _What an annoyance._ )

He placed his breakfast atop the wall he had been leaning on beneath the bushes. It was unlikely this would take long, but he didn’t want a cat to run away with his food or a thousand other trivial annoyances that would make the day worse. Hajime found it wasn’t the hard grind that defined the day, but the moment-to-moment interaction that solidified the result. 

Today was shaping up poorly.

He headed to the crosswalk to cross the road. Ikusaba’s eyes had to still be on him, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint her. This didn’t appear to be the time for jaywalking. It was likely a kid cosplaying or being edgy for the day, they’d get a talking to, and that would be it.

While he was moving, he kept his focus on whom Ikusaba had pointed out. The man stumbled and shuffled, not to the point of obvious drunkenness. It was a pattern of uncaring aloofness, how he floated and swayed as he moved, entirely uncaring. Hajime took note of the scuff marks branding his formerly-expensive name-brand shoes.

( _Is this habitual?_ )

Whatever. He didn’t care. 

His focused target hesitated at the outskirt of the wall, lingering one moment with his long jacket brushing the concrete. His hair was wild and completely white, too similar to how bleach left fabric to be real. His hands were swept into his jacket pockets, blending his arms into the folds of the fabric. All of his mannerisms were unkempt, careless. Odd.

When he ducked into the alleyway, Hajime didn’t hesitate to follow.

He didn’t often find himself in the side streets of his prefecture. In contrast to the sunny disposition of the main roads, the offshoots were cramped and cluttered, bins set aside on the street. It was muddy between the tile outline of a path that the stranger continued to trod down, into darker yet darker regions. The standing water from the previous nights’ rain splashed against Hinata’s tight-laced boots, staining them with dirt. Another annoyance added to the list on a shitty day. 

Finally, the dirt path gave way to a concrete flooring behind an equally filthy restaurant. Hajime had seen the establishment often on his patrols; the food was excellent and the service was terrible. He didn’t visit often. The walls were coated with posters, promotions, and sports of graffiti he didn’t have time to give attention. Instead, his focus was drawn to the four foot stack of _something_ shoved onto a pallet covered in a gray tarp. His target had stopped in front of it, his foot tapping idly. 

Hajime reached for his radio, his hand hovering over his belt.

Then the man turned around, drew a gloved hand from his pocket, and _waved_.

Hajime looked behind him. No one else had entered the alley. 

( _Is this some kind of signal?_ )

He looked back.

The stranger was inches from Hajime’s face, tilting his head to the left.

“Oh good, you’re here! You’ve been following for a while. Join me.”

Hajime jumped back and fell backwards, down onto the concrete. 

“You’re under arrest!” He barked out even though his back stung. It was the first thing that came to mind, unfortunately for his pride.

The man laughed. Whether it was his remark or the fall that elicited it, Hajime couldn’t tell. What he could tell now that he was up close was that the mask was a custom creation. While his voice would usually be muffled with a mask in the way, this one had small speakers built into the side. It was also actively distorting his voice.

“For what? I haven’t even committed a crime yet. What would you even arrest me for?” He took another step closer.

“Yet?” ( _Was this person stupid? Dangerous? Dangerously stupid?_ ) “ That’s not how this works! At the very least this is suspicious activity!”

“So you’ll arrest me from the ground? I guess they don’t make them like they used to. Officer Ishimaru gave me a rundown yesterday.”

Hinata overlooked the fact that apparently this twig of a man outran Kiyotaka for the time being. “I’m a rookie. This isn’t my forte. What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, the stranger knelt down and offered a hand.

Hajime hesitated, then took it.

His target was oddly strong, pulling him up on one solid motion. It brought a heat to his face that he couldn’t quite place as he steadied his feet on the ground.

He kept their hands clasped for a moment longer than necessary, then pulled away and let go.

( _Oh well, more to over-analyze when I’m trying to sleep tonight. He’s talking again._ )

“What’s your name?”

“Hinata Hajime.”

“Well Officer Hinata, I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you. I’m preoccupied.” He swept his same right hand to the side, gesturing to the tarp while keeping the left in his pocket.

“I—You answer my questions! What is this for!?” He could feel his face growing flustered in frustration. The sheer inanity of it all was getting to him.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a bomb.”

( _. . . a bomb. A bomb? An explosive bomb!?_ )

“A bomb!?”

The man rolled his eyes under the mask. “Don’t be dramatic.” 

“This isn’t dramatic at all! Thank you, because now I know what I’m arresting you for. Domestic terrorism!”

He was ignored yet again.

“Do you know where we are?”

Hajime blinked.

_(What?)_

“No? Well, I guess I could tell you. We’re back behind the main bridge. This alleyway is a dead-end junk heap beside the intersection.”

“What does this have to do with—”

“Don’t interrupt.”

Hajime’s jaw dropped. It did little to affect the man in the mask.

“This bridge is essential for the people that use it every day. It’s become a crutch, a reliance. To lose it would be devastating, would it not? Despair-inducing? Imagine what kind of hope that could bring afterwards!”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does! But I understand what you’re thinking. You know, someone as awful, as terrible, as lowly as me can’t possibly make a change. In fact, the only thing beneath me. . . is you.”

“Me?”

“The police state. The whole system is so thoroughly corrupted, rotten all the way through. Don’t tell me that you don’t see it. Or are you simply not looking? Is that it?”

“I. . .”

“You doubt my candor? Then let me ask you this: you too crave the abnormal to compensate for your painfully boring, normal existence. Am I right?”

“I—” 

“Who knows. I’m probably wrong. Who am I kidding, I’m definitely wrong!”

Hajime whipped out the baton at his side.

( _It’s time to make him shut up.)_

“Or perhaps there’s more to you than meets the eye.” The man’s tone stayed even. “Do you know what catalysis is, Hinata-kun?”

“We are not friends.”

“That’s harsh, but I understand. I am the scum of the earth, after all. I understand if you wouldn’t want me to explain it, I’m sure someone like you knows all about—”

Hajime’s patience had worn thin. “Go ahead and tell me!”

( _Let him talk. Wait him out and Ikusaba will show up. She’ll know what to do._ )

The man stilled. 

Hinata felt as if he was being smiled at. Dread piled in his stomach—something was awfully wrong.

With a surprising amount of elegance, the criminal began his speech.

“It’s a chemistry term used for describing chemical reactions. Specifically, an increased rate of a reaction with the assistance of a catalyst. However, there is another meaning that often goes unrecognized; dissolution, destruction, and decay. These are all tied to the catalyst, of course, so the catalyst receives the credit. Don’t you think that the environment, the solution, deserves most of the credit?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I am a catalyst, Hinata Hajime. A sickly symptom of this world. And this is my catalysis.”

( _He’s fucking insane_.)

The tiredness he had fought off with coffee and unfettered optimism was beginning to set in his bones again.

“I didn’t expect you to understand,” he continued as if he could read Hajime’s thoughts (or perhaps he wore too many emotions on his sleeve; his bulged-out eyes were quite noticeable), “But I have a purpose. You have your ideals and justice, and I have my destruction. I think that makes us alike. One and the same. For you justice is your harbor, your anchor to the ordinary while allowing the hammer of the law to pound down and smooth the unnatural, the strange, the unwanted. And that is what you truly crave, is it not? The unusual? To be different?”

“You don’t know me at all.” 

Hajime approached him. At the moment it was none of his concern that he wasn’t supposed to be using weaponry yet. All this talk about catalysts, justice, and destruction was _not_ conducive to a safe, peaceful town. 

The man shrugged. “And you don’t know me.”

He pulled his left hand from his jacket and along with it a stainless steel capsule not dissimilar from a water bottle. He tossed it underhanded to the ground towards the policeman.

“Who the hell are you?” Hajime put a foot on the canister, stopping it in place. 

( _If this is a distraction, it’s a bad one_.) 

“Finally, he asks! Now you’re making it fun, Hinata-kun!”

The canister spewed smoke into the air. Hajime realized his mistake too late.

“Call me the Ultimate Hope.”

Hinata coughed, waving in front of him to disperse the chemical spray. The baton did little to dissuade the atmosphere that covered him. Upset, he tossed it to the side and stepped forward. 

Somewhere, there was a faint click.

It was then he noticed, faintly through the spray, a faint orange light. 

At first he was confused.

( _A flame?)_

His eyes widened.

_(A lighter!)_

He clawed his way closer, eyes stinging. 

( _T_ _his is what that gas mask was for, wasn’t it?)_

He was mentally cursing himself out for not doing anything to stop The Ultimate Hope _(?)_ sooner. Waiting out a madman was a ridiculous idea. All he had to do was get him away from the bomb, and that would be that. He followed like a moth to flame, watching as it dipped and lowered.

Then he heard it.

A hiss.

The cloud in front of him grew darker, and suddenly, a force pushed into Hinata throwing him back. It wasn’t aggressive, it wasn’t an attack, no: the twisted vigilante was on top of him. His hands framed the rookie’s face like a portrait, arms wrapping around his chest and hips at an angle too impractical to attribute to anything but pure, dumb luck.

“I’m not sorry Officer, but I don’t want you getting hurt.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, and Hajime could only imagine the look on his face.

Little did he know he wouldn’t have to imagine for long.

The explosive went off.

The world shook and groaned around them. Fire cascaded up into the air like a signal flare, highlighting his enemy—and savior’s—wild mane of hair like a hellfire halo.

Hajime was staring.

The back of his green jacket was also burning. Before he could speak to address it, the stranger chuckled.

“Oh that? It’s fine.” He patted his back as if it were nothing but a mere botherance. He pushed himself up, unfurling his arms from Hinata’s and drawing his hand up to his face. The metal of the mask jingled.

As he blinked to clear the gas from his eyes, Hajime felt a soft press against his forehead.

( _Wait. . ._ )

The Ultimate had slipped off the gas mask for a phantom mockery of a kiss.

When he pulled back, Hajime could finally see him.

The stranger was beautiful in the most grotesque of ways. His face was pale and thin, gaunt even, with dark circles beneath irises devoid of any color. His lips were red, cracked as if he were parched, and twisted into the most frightening smile Hinata had ever seen.

He stood up above him and laughed.

( _That is_ **_not_ ** _fair.)_

His laugh was insane, and Hinata knew that he shouldn’t be feeling breathless for this reason but he couldn’t _help_ it.

He was so caught up in the moment he didn’t notice that the Ultimate Hope had started walking.

The man, who Hinata could not possibly know was one Komaeda Nagito, walked over to the wreckage and chaos before them, threw up a peace sign with his fingers, and fell backward off the broken railing.

Hajime couldn’t help himself. He snapped out of his fever, sitting up immediately upright, then broke into a run to the new hole between the alley and the main road.

There he was, the Ultimate Hope, saved by the trash bags stacked beside the stream. He stood up, brushed himself off, and smiled. Then he slipped the gas mask back on and slunk away, only to turn back once.

Komaeda gave Hajime a short, mocking salute.

A soft, “oh,” escaped Hajime’s lips, but he would never admit it.

He stood in the center of the aftermath, his hat clutched in his hands and his world view thoroughly destroyed along with the bridge.

“Hinata.” It was the first time he’d ever heard Mukuro’s voice trill.

“What? Oh! Right. Right, the bridge.” The bridge was the last thought on his mind at the moment, but Ikusaba was attentive as always. She was behind him. Only now she must have considered this worthy of pursuit.

“Did you get a look at his face?”

Hajime thought of the walk, the wave, and the lighter. He thought of the gas mask, a helping hand up, and the fog screen. He thought about the crazy, rambling speeches and the ghost of his arms pushing Hinata down. He thought of the face of the Ultimate Hope himself. 

His ears were bright red with blush.

( _To hell with it._ )

“No. No, I didn’t.” He lied.

“Did he give his ID? Or did he give a name?” Ikusaba demanded.

Hajime had only one answer.

“He called himself ‘The Ultimate Hope’.”

She crossed her arms.

“I hope we never see him again. For his sake.”

_(I hope I do.)_

Because for the first time in his entire normal life, Hajime’s heart raced with excitement.

**Author's Note:**

> Hinata and Komaeda say BLM and ACAB, and you should too!


End file.
